Nautical Blaze
by CapturedByNoodles
Summary: Like the stars above the city Makoto often watched taper off into the dark with no real consistency, a heartbeat could be as ephemeral as the lights in the night sky. Life is unpredictable. But thankfully, so is love. [ NEET!Haru/Firefighter!Makoto]
1. Chapter 1 - Mackerel

**Author's Note:** This fic is going to be a real journey, but I had this story idea in my head for weeks and I finally got around to writing it. This is my first contribution to the Free! Fandom, and I hope that I can continue to give to the community, even if my ideas are cliché.

* * *

**【 Chapter 1: Mackerel 】**

* * *

Makoto clumsily detaches his lips from the CPR training dummy, nonplussed and as awkward as he expects to be from breathing into a rubber face, but proud. He straightens the glasses on his face that have been pressing uncomfortably against the bridge of the dummy's nose, before he moves to his seat.

As ambivalent as the future could be, a single life is more vulnerable to change.

Like the stars above the city Makoto often watched taper off into the dark with no real consistency, a heartbeat could be as ephemeral as the lights in the night sky.

Makoto finds dizzying comfort in the fact that he could shift the balance in someone's favor by giving them the air in his lungs, and that knowledge alone made it easy to brush aside the embarrassment he had felt when lip-locking with a prosthetic women named _Resusci Anne._

The instructor shoots him a thumbs up and he smiles modestly at her, continuing to listen diligently for the rest of class. EMT certification was one of the first requirements on the road to becoming a firefighter. And while he was well on his way, there was still a lot of work he needed to do before he gets there.

Two months have passed since he moved to Tokyo and he's taken a variety of fire science classes at the local university. While he misses home, and his two younger siblings waiting for him there, Makoto could say a little easily now that he was starting to adjust to the tumultuous nature of the city, to the point where everything lately began to feel sort of unexciting and redundant.

He supposes, maybe it's inevitable for things to seem routine after settling in a certain place for a certain length of time.

His parents weren't exactly happy with his career decision or his move, but they weren't any less supportive, and he's still grateful for that.

Makoto can picture their worried faces, even now, when he told them during his last year of high school that he wanted to go to the city to basically learn how to save people. From _fires. _And how all that translated to him throwing his life away, which led to his mother stress-cooking, his father giving him a long, _long _talk on just what he was getting himself to, and his little brother and sister begging him not to _die._

After hours of reassuring them, especially Ren and Ran, that he would in fact, stay very much _alive, _his parents eventually came around and offered to support him while he was away.

Makoto knew that it was hard for them to understand. Just he's always been attentive to a fault, and a few middle school trips to a fire house, plus that overwhelming urge to protect, mapped out the course of his life before he even knew what Cardiopulmonary resuscitation was. Before he even started high school he'd been certain that this was what he wanted to do.

The instructor waves a hand in dismissal, and Makoto pulls his bag over his shoulder with meaningful slowness, glancing behind him. After a few minutes, he turns around and smiles abashedly at the dark haired, heavy presence now by his side.

"Your ears were red the whole time."

Makoto meets his friend Sousuke with a look caught between distress and resignation and slumps forward. Sousuke was the only one at the university who could tower over his already alarming height with relative indifference to the stares, and some part of him wishes he could be that untroubled.

"Your chest compressions were too rough, "Sousuke says casually, "next time, ease up."

"Who knew she could make me so nervous..." Makoto says, and he laughs quietly. It was silly to think about, but even the closed, plastic eyes of the dummy had made him feel like he was doing something to someone that he shouldn't. "But you seemed fine up there, Sousuke. I'm a little jealous."

"Because _she _isn't real," Sousuke says humorously, accentuates the slip up with a teasing tone so subtle, the only inclination being the faint upward curve of his lips, and Makoto sighs and berates himself even further for the mistake.

He met Sousuke in his Hazardous Materials Awareness class this semester. Makoto needs to pass it, just so he'll be eligible for the Fire Marshal certification exam, but for Sousuke it was a prerequisite. He's training to become a paramedic.

Sousuke pats Makoto once on the back in silent reassurance, probably reading the disappointment on his face. Although their professions were different on paper, Makoto is constantly soothed by the simple fact that their end goals are the same. They want to help others.

"Stop worrying," Sousuke says gruffly and looks off to the side.

"Right." Makoto sighs. _Next time, I want to get it just right though._

Sousuke extends a finger toward Makoto's temple and cocks his head to the side. Makoto blinks. "Frown lines, Tachibana."

"Oh," Makoto catches himself, smoothes the anxious skin he's helplessly tensing with his index and thumb, and smiles in thanks.

"I'm heading to that cafe around the corner. Are you coming?"

"Ah, no, not this time," Makoto says, shaking his head. "I actually have to go home. Study for this test I have next week."

"Which one?"

"Basic Operations."

"They sure want to hammer in protocol," Sousuke says, grunting in acknowledgment, then he walks ahead and waves him off with a light smirk. "I'll see you next class, then."

"Yeah." Makoto draws in a breath, willing himself not to follow as he watches his friend disappear. As much as he wants to go out to eat for a change-and he _really _does want to-he knows that he can't be spending that kind money left and right.

Makoto adjusts his bag strap again so it hangs comfortably off his shoulder, and begins to walk out of the building and onto the busy streets.

His apartment is within walking distance from his university, only fifteen minutes on foot. He'd picked it out partly because it's such a short commute from home to school, but mostly because it's a cheap place with _very _cheap utilities and a nice landlady who harbors a _lot _of cats.

It is most definitely small, cramped, not spectacular, or anything- but it works, and is kind of convenient when the water isn't brown.

(...Though he fears on a daily basis that he will hit his head against the low ceilings).

Makoto stops just a block away when his phone trembles violently out of nowhere. The sun starts to set behind the tall office buildings, and he turns his head away from the warm glow, brings the screen up to his face, and reads the texts which are coming now in rapid succession.

He has to hold back a smile as his eyes travel down the screen.

* * *

**[8:03:20 PM] Ren: **Ran is pullin g my hair

**[8:03:45 PM] Ren:** make her stop!

**[8:03:45 PM] Ran:** i'm not hes lying ⋋_⋌

**[8:04:20 PM] Ren:** she punc hed me becau se we played ur racecar game and i won but i won big bro tell her to stop

* * *

The screen flashes again, and Makoto is definitely laughing in the middle of the sidewalk now, but he can't find it in him to mind.

* * *

**[_8:04:54 PM] Ren:_**_ im the man of the house now why isnt ran listening to me make her listen to me im the man now_

* * *

Makoto muffles another laugh by clasping his hand over his mouth, shoulders trembling. He's still trying to get used to the fact that the twins have phones. He only bought phones for them under the condition that he was their _only _contact, aside from their parents and each other.

Makato could only _imagine _beforehow terrible Ran must be without him there, but with these texts he no longer needs to.

Ran was always bullying Ren if he wasn't there to monitor her, and Makoto knows now that he's away, it was up to Ren to fend for himself. But that doesn't mean he won't try to help his younger sibling.

Makoto rounds the corner and starts to traverse the steps up to his apartment. Meanwhile, he thumbs the keys on his phone, all with a familiar need to restore order between the two of them, and it fills his stomach with nostalgia. A warmth rises.

He really misses it.

* * *

_Ran, play nicely. He won the game fair and square. And Ren, it's late over there. As the man of the house, get you and your sister ready for bed. ^^ ok?_

* * *

After sending that, Makoto doesn't get any more texts until he's in front of his own door and he's pulling out his keys.

The screen flashes.

* * *

_**[8:04:20 PM] Ran:** we love you bro nightnigh!_

* * *

He misses_ them_

Makoto's keys slip out of his hand and he frowns, feeling his heart clench.

He wishes he could visit soon, but he isn't sure if he'll even get the time. With how busy he's been with classes, he's barely been able to sleep, let alone have the time to take off school for a few days.

(... But if this keeps up, he isn't sure how long it'll be before he snaps and ends up buying the first train ticket back home.)

Makoto exhales and lets himself sulk. _Ah... _He's been battling this homesickness for a while, but for some reason today it was a lot worse than usual. He decides he'll definitely call them tomorrow at least. Maybe in a few weeks he will work out a plan where they can see him instead. It shouldn't be too hard, and the twins will probably like exploring the parks around here.

Feeling satisfied with that thought, Makoto bends over to grab the keys he dropped on the floor and turns them in the lock. Just as he's about to walk in he freezes. Makoto jerks his head up and only half-inhales through his nose before he turns his attention to the apartment next to him.

It reeks of smoke.

The window isn't open, Makoto realizes, but he can see the grey smog seep out from the bottom of the door frame, and all around him starts to smell of something pungent. As cheap as these apartments are, each one is equipped with a smoke detector that _should _be working. Makoto knows, because he personally made sure to ask the landlady before he moved in if they were checked regularly for efficiency. But with this much already…

_It must be broken,_ he thinks hastily.

Makoto abandons his keys, walks briskly to his neighbor's door, and presses the doorbell, fidgeting nervously. It was probably nothing. He just wants to make _sure _it was nothing. However, after two minutes that feel like a whole eternity, he does it again and can't help feeling at once ridiculous and terrified. No one seems to be coming.

"Is everything okay?" Makoto calls, and he raps his fists against the door, hoping for an answer of some kind. "Hello?" He strains his ears, searches for a sound, but what greets him is an uncomfortable silence.

He moves to press his face against the window and knows he's getting anxious now. Makoto tries to peer through some slip in the curtain, but it's impossible to see inside, so he hefts his bag off his shoulder and steps back, cradling his chin with his hand in thought. _Is anyone inside? _

He's never seen this person before, his neighbor.

From the first day he moved in it was always quiet next door. While he's asked about the tenant beside him out of courtesy, he's never gotten much to go on except that they kept to themselves.

Was this person the type who was shy? Secluded maybe? Or did they just have trouble moving around?

(Now that was kind of scary_…_)_  
_  
What if they were hurt in there? Or passed out?

Makoto then has to picture his neighbor as an elderly women on the floor, struggling to reach the door, and he decides that he can't really wait around anymore to find out the answer.

"Uhm, if anyone's in there, I'm coming in!" Makoto shouts, his throat dry. He quickly dashes into his apartment and grabs the fire extinguisher he keeps propped on the wall, just in case. When he comes back, Makoto steels his nerves, which are electric-charged and jumping all over the place, before he tightens the muscles in his back, backs up, and wonders if there's even a _proper _way to break into someone's home. _Here it goes._

Closing his eyes, Makoto rushes forward and braces himself for the impact.

The door gives out easily, a little _too easily_ against the weight of his body and as it swings open he's propelling forward with no control.

"Gah!" Makoto finds he only has a second to think, _scream,_ wonder if _maybe _he should have checked if the door was unlocked all along, before he's lost his footing and flounders like a graceless swan into the living area, stepping on countless things.

It's _so _embarrassing_. _

He wants to disappear.

Makoto's aware he's flailing with a large object in his hand as he tries not to faceplant into the person's carpet. Somehowhe manages to balance himself upright like a stiff, dry log, and his face burns hot.

He feels wildly out of his element, intruding like this, but he'll have time to hide later.

He places a hand on his chest, as if the power of his sweaty palms will work wonders to calm his racing heart. Then he positions the extinguisher in front of him, his finger resting on the discharge lever while the other cradles the nozzle. He catches a whiff of the smell, and Makoto's attention is focused straight ahead.

It reminds him of the time Ran tried to cook fish. He'd been trying to teach her, but it all went wrong when she went to play tag with Ren and left the pan unattended. Makoto remembers lecturing them for an hour about how it important it was to stay in the kitchen.

This is the same situation, but luckily more _manageable. _

The apartment is a similar layout to his, so he's able to find the kitchen pretty quickly. Makoto breathes out a sigh of relief when he comes upon an inflamed cooking pan instead of burning curtains or exploding ovens, and he gently releases his finger from the lever. The food isn't even burnt (_is that mackeral?) _and it's nothing a lid won't fix.

Suddenly Makoto feels like he grossly misread the situation.

_Ah. I overreacted. _

Makoto brushes his hair back, smiling wearily. _I guess I'm just tired. _

Still, he can't help but wonder where the person who made this went.

"Who are you?"

He gets his answer.

The yelp that leaves Makoto's throat is ridiculously high pitched. He seriously panics as he reflexively presses _down _on the lever, foam flies every which way, and it completely douses the mackerel and the countertop around it.

Makoto stammers as he drops the extinguisher, turning around to apologize _immediately, _because he really doesn't know what just happened, he's _so, so, so, so sorry _for coming in here like this-

... The words die in his throat.

"Who are you?" They say more firmly, voice tinged with obvious irritation. A face unlike anything Makoto's ever seen before gives nothing away but the faintest brow crease, lips turned downward, and he just stares because…

_Pretty. _

This person standing in front of him was _pretty_, for lack of a better word to say, and…

"Um- I'm next door. The door next to yours? I-I'm your neighbor," Makoto's cheeks sting with heat, he's so inarticulate right now, but he isn't really in the frame of mind to care.

Dressed in a loose fitting white tee and dark grey sweats, Makoto unconsciously traces the droplet of water that's sliding down a single dark lock of his neighbor's hair. It falls and draws a line from his neck, to the smooth pasture of skin over his throat, and finally, _finally _it disappears underneath the partially wet shirt.

Makoto's mouth feels suddenly dry.

This person just stares, seeming unmoved by the information, and there's a stretch of silence. Makoto tries to gather himself.

"I saw smoke. I came by to see if everything was okay, which is why-"

"You broke in." This person deadpans, eyes hardening, and Makoto's breath catches in his throat. He suddenly feels caught between falling away to ruin and falling further into the sea that's manifested before him. Because he's never seen eyes as blue as these before. It's like he's being carried away by a riptide.

He can faintly taste the salt of the ocean on his tongue.

"You're right," Makoto admits, and he's surprised at his voice for coming out so clearly. "But there was a fire and… Uh, if you don't mind me asking... were you taking a bath?"

This person tenses.

Makoto harmlessly brings his hands up and blushes further. "I mean...! It's not my business what you were doing. I was just curious since you're so wet," the look he receives is downright accusatory, "W-Wait! Ah, what I mean is- it's just that I knocked earlier, but no one answered."

"I was busy."

"Of course…" Makoto says with a nervous sort of chuckle, and he smiles politely. He decides to let go of the question that's really on his mind, like why anyone would bathe in the middle of frying fish (they haven't denied it), because he's certain he won't get an answer. Or at least one he will understand. "I'm really sorry for intruding..."

More silence.

"And I might have made a mess?I did make a mess, but I can help clean up since I-"

"I don't care about that."

Makoto's eyes go wide with surprise.

"You… don't?" He echoes.

Aquatic orbs look behind him. Makoto notices the direction and glances over his shoulder at the mackerel caked in foam, and then back to this person, realizing there's a longing there. That longing quickly morphs into disappointment before Makoto's being skewered by an intense glare.

"My food," they mutter, "...you ruined it."

"...Oh," _Oh._ "... Um." _What about the kitchen, and the mess, and breaking in? _Except this person really doesn't seem concerned with any of it. Makoto can only watch in fascination as the man nudges forward and pushes him aside, staring at the mackerel like he's lost a dear friend.

Nimble fingers brush some froth away from the head of the fish.

It's intimate, almost.

"Leave."

"...Oh." Makoto suddenly aware he's just awkwardly standing around, watching him. He's almost completely forgotten his original reason for being here. "Right, let me just…" For some reason he doesn't really want to go, but he does.

He moves his feet away from the kitchen slowly, feeling like he's been broken out of a trance, and as he heads for the door Makoto notices a lot more about the apartment then when he'd initially charged in.

The television propped on the wall in the living room is dusty, like it hasn't been used for weeks, and there are magazines littered all over the floor. Makoto isn't even sure if there is much of a _floor _to begin with_, _now that he's really looked at it, since clothes are covering most of it. There's old food wrappers and dishes everywhere. It looks like he hasn't left this room in weeks.

_Is he okay?_

Tucked in a corner is piles upon piles of unopened mail, fifty or sixty letters at least, and they're all addressed to the same person: _Haruka Nanase_.

Makoto shuffles out of the apartment with only a backwards glance.

The door clicks behind him.

(... And he's not sure how many times the name _Haruka _rolls off his tongue that night.)

* * *

_xXx_  
_Thanks for reading! I will update this biweekly._


	2. Chapter 2 - Dolphin Wars

**【 Chapter 2: Dolphin Wars 】**

* * *

"You smell weird, Tachibana."

Makoto looks up from his book, confused, and sets down the Styrofoam cup he's had absently pressed to his lips on the coffee table.

Sousuke's sitting on the couch across from him in the school lounge—well, _leaning away from him__—_and his brows are knitted together in deep thought. Next to him a messy bundle of red hair and charged golden eyes, belonging to none other than Momotarou Mikoshiba, their classmate, narrow quizzically in Makoto's direction; and Makoto brings the collar of his shirt up to his nose to sniff it once out of courtesy. He's not entirely sure what he's looking for.

"It's kind of strong. Ah…! Did Tachibana-Senpai take a morning jog past a fish market?" Momotarou nearly shouts. "Hehe! I like to wake up early too to take Pyunsuke for a walk."

"You have a dog?" Makoto asks, a mixture of curiosity and envy. He remembers begging his parents for a dog when he was eight years old, but they told him it would be too much responsibility and got him a fish instead. Where he's living now, Makoto is sure a dog wouldn't be too happy in his small apartment, but he's considered getting a cat in the future.

Maybe a black cat, with large, blue eyes.

"No, he doesn't." Sousuke deadpans, his tone grave. Makoto watches him place his hand on top of the shorters head to squeeze it, and the younger boy yelps. "Momo, _remember _our agreement."

"But Yamazaki-_Senpaaaaaaaaaaiiii," _Momotarou moans, his lips jutted out in a pout. "_Gah,_ can't I talk about Pyunsuke just a little?"

"Sure. If you want to study somewhere else."

"So _meaaaaaaaaaaan_!"

Makoto chuckles.

"It's like salmon," Sousuke offers, back on topic, though it sounds more like a question. Makoto watches him pinch the bridge of his nose. "Or some type of carp…"

Suddenly it clicks into place.

Makoto can't help but flush, flip a page of his book to some arbitrary chapter, before he closes it when he realizes he lost his motivation to study hours ago. He's so used to the scent, it doesn't even feel overwhelming anymore.

"It's mackerel, actually." Makoto bashfully replies.

Sousuke's accusing stare pins him down, and Momotarou pounds a hand against his fist with an _ooooooooh,_ like the answer should have been obvious all along.

"I didn't think it was that bad?" Makoto says, and it's scary that he's being honest with himself. "My neighbor Haru- I-I mean…! _Nanase, _likes to cook it next door. When I come home my apartment sometimes smells like it. I guess it got on my clothes somehow too..."

"Is she cute?! This Haruka-san is cute _right?_ _Right?_"

"You haven't complained?" Sousuke grunts, taking a sip from his own mug. "Your neighbor sounds annoying."

"Ah, well… they're… " Makoto trails off contemplatively, because annoying isn't what he would use to describe _him _at all. He remembers Haruka's impassive expression; how the most alluring, ultramarine eyes he's ever seen stared at him implicatively through wet bangs, and one word comes to mind in a breathless attempt to punctuate, "... _interesting._ They're just interesting."

Sousuke turns his head away, not before giving him a dissenting, sidelong glance.

Since that day, Haruka went from the mysterious neighbor who's rarely seen, to an object of fascination Makoto can't shake from his heart or his dreams, even if he tries.

And Makoto does not try, not even once. In fact, for the past week, Makoto _may _or_ may not_ have been going out of his way just to run into Haruka again, lingering to and from his apartment door with this small hope that he'll catch him at a good time so they could talk.

_Haa… But he never comes out of his apartment, at least not when I'm around, and it's probably a good thing, _Makoto thinks.

He still isn't sure what he'll say.

"So, is she cute, Tachibana?" Sousuke echoes Momotarou's question, not with nearly the same amount of enthusiasm, but enough interest to still surprise him. Makoto can feel warmth steadily rise on his cheeks, not entirely sure how to tackle this.

"You were smiling, Tachibana-Senpai!" Momotarou points out, grinning, and Makoto instinctively touches his lips that he didn't realize were levitating of their own volition. It's a little embarrassing, but he realizes he's acting less like a fireman and more like a schoolgirl with a crush every day. _What am I going to do? _This is becoming a problem._  
_

"Just ask her out," Sousuke seems to answer for him, his tone bored. "It shouldn't be too hard."

"It's really not that simple..."

"You're making it difficult."

"Romance, Tachibana-Senpai, romance!" Momotarou is positively beaming. "I have an idea. You can burrow Pyunsuke!"

"Momo," Sousuke says warningly,_ "Don't."_ But it's too late. To Makoto's shock, and Sousuke's horror, Momotarou reaches for the bag he's had delicately placed between him and Sousuke, and pulls out a jar with a large stag beetle moving around inside. Sousuke slaps a hand to his forehead and groans.

"Ladies love him! Pyunsuke is a great conversation piece to get the mood going! For example—did you know that stag beetles were also called billy witches, oak-ox, thunder-beetle and horse pinchers?_ Oh, oh, _and Male Stag Beetles use their antlers to wrestle other males during the mating season. Isn't that an incredible display of youth?!_ It'sreallycoolbecause_—_Mmmfff,_ Y-YAMAZAKI, MMPHHH, S-SENP-!"

Sousuke keeps his hand over Momotarou's mouth, and Makoto's sure he hears the word _idiot _spoken under the other's breath.

"Do whatever you want," Sousuke continues, his hand firm against the wild squirming underneath it. "I doubt she won't like you."

"_He..._" Makoto hears himself correct delicately. "Haruka's a _he._"

Sousuke only looks mildly surprised.

Momotarou's eyes are blown wide.

"But he's your type." Sousuke responds evenly. It's not a question, and Makoto doesn't even give it much thought. From the moment he saw Haruka, he was instantly attracted to him. He's, for lack of a better word, _beautiful;_ a curious, brilliant empyrean star amongst the muddled city skyline, and Makoto can't help the longing he feels. He wants to know more.

"I guess he is." Makoto says, and he feels a little flustered admitting it out loud, especially in front of his classmate and his friend who seems to be taking his preferences with complete indifference.

"Again, do what you want," Sousuke says simply, and he stands up, removing his hand. Momotarou gasps for air. Makoto, for some reason, feels instantly grateful. "Though promise me when we meet up again next weekend, you'll be focused."

Makoto's lips pull into a taut, yet strained smile.

"Yeah."

He can only hope so.

* * *

Later, when Makoto's ascending the steps to his apartment, he goes over what they said in his head.

_Asking Haruka out. _Truthfully, he's been so busy obsessing over how he'll apologize, that he hasn't really given anything else beyond that that much thought. But given how he tripped over the flat sidewalk, _several times_, from daydreaming about it on his way here, Makoto finds the idea to ask his neighbor out on a date is just as pleasant as it is dangerous.

He hasn't been this anxious in a while.

The last time he felt this jittery was when he was fifteen, struggling with puberty, and had worked up the nerve to tell his parents that he liked a boy in his class. They took it surprisingly well, only after asking him several times if he was _sure, _and Makoto remembers the confession not being nearly as terrifying as what transpired afterward.

His mom trying to explain with slow, shameless hand gestures, what two men end up doing when they _really like each other, _is a memory that even to this day Makoto wishes he could burn from his retinas.

He exhales as he gets to the top of the stairs, resigning himself to another painfully awkward confrontation.

Makoto isn't even sure if Haruka will _want _to talk to him. After all, he did break into his neighbor's place in a really…dramatic fashion—with foam flying around, the frothed eye of a dead fish staring into his soul, all following a wonderful balancing act on his toes when Haruka appeared behind him. So it's possible Haruka's been avoiding him on purpose all week, and Makoto would understand if he never wanted to see him again.

"Dolphin Wars."

Makoto takes back that sentiment instantly; because he never knew how desperately he needed Haruka's voice against the drum of his ears until now.

Choking down a surprised yelp, Makoto stares straight ahead, wide eyed and unnaturally solid.

Haruka is standing in the hallway, dressed unseasonably in a dark hoodie and jeans, and he's talking to a postman. That postman's vainly attempting to give him a small box as Haruka's lips are a thin, tight line, his eyes icily narrowed with _annoyance? Frustration, _maybe?

"I ordered one more," Makoto watches Haruka mutters tersely, shifting from one foot to the other. "Dolphin Wars: The Final Click."

"Well, again, I just delivered this…" The mailman says tiredly, and Makoto wonders if they've been having this conversation for a while. "There's a number you can call to see if-"

"I waited a month." Haruka cuts him off.

He tucks the package, which Makoto can see reads _Dolphin Kingdom,_ under his right arm. It's definitely a video game. Makoto recognizes the series, because a year ago Ren and Ran made him buy a similar title, _Dolphin Splash_—_just how many were there?_—for Christmas, and he has it tucked away in the corner of his room somewhere from when the twins insisted that he take it to remember them by.

Haruka's voice never rises, but Makoto thinks he sees the blue in Haruka's irises darken a bit in a subtle display of irritation.

"How much longer?"

"I can't give you an estimate..."

"Guess." Haruka looks downright surly.

"I really don't know..."

There's a barely audible sigh. Makoto watches his shoulders slack. _This game must be really important to him_, he muses. Because from where he's standing, he swears it looks like Haruka's sulking. Makoto doesn't get much of a chance to analyze it though; not when their eyes catch. Haruka's lips twitch in what seems like recognition, and his mouth forms a more pronounced frown.

Makoto is sure that that's a bad sign. He's sure that Haruka definitely isn't excited to see him, but he can't help it. He's hopeful? A little. He's _nauseous_. It's like all the air's been sucked out of the atmosphere and his head feels like it's spinning, and _spinning. _

Suddenly Makoto feels like he's a teenager all over again, silly and awful, hot and wired, as if he's being dangled over the edge of a cliff by only a slim string.

The postman uses this as a chance to escape and runs away. Fast. He's out of sight before Makoto has a chance to recognize the blur that's whizzing past him, and in that moment he catches himself wondering if he should get away too. But it's kind of late for that.

"You…" Haruka murmurs, his gaze steady.

Makoto approaches him carefully, his smile slow and tentative.

"It's nice to see you again, _Haruka_." He says, his cheeks tingling as he stops in front of him. Makoto swallows an abnormal amount of spit, knowing that his movements are jerky and awkward. Haruka just nods mutely. "Have you been home all day?"

Dark eyes bore into his, and Makoto immediately realizes how creepy that must sound.

He quickly raises his hands, mortified.

"Though that's none of my business. A-Ah, you don't have to answer that."

"I've been waiting." Haruka replies, somewhat cryptically.

"Waiting… Oh, do you mean for your game?" Makoto asks. His eyes drift toward the package and back to Haruka's shoulders, and he laughs quietly. He's so nervous he can't even look directly at him. _He's_ _too..._ "I've only played one of those before, with my younger siblings. It was a lot of fun, but I wasn't very good at it."

Haruka shakes his head.

"I was waiting for you."

Makoto's heart does this little flutter, and somehow it feels like his spirit momentarily left his body through his slack mouth. It couldn't be. He's asleep. He has to be. There's no other explanation for Haruka saying he was waiting for _him _all day_. _Unless… _The possibility that Haruka also…?_

"For me?" Makoto prompts, flushing.

Haruka nods, his face abnormally serene and beautiful as always. Then he turns his back toward Makoto and disappears behind the door to his apartment, leaving him unsettlingly blazing and _confused_. Waiting for his neighbor to return feels like the longest minute of Makoto's life. When Haruka does come back, his package is gone and his hands are full with something else he recognizes instantly. The previous anticipation sinks like a heavy stone.

"You left this in my kitchen." Haruka explains, and he bends down to place the fire extinguisher by Makoto's feet.

Makoto feels somewhat defeated, and if this were a television drama he's sure he would hear the audience laughing because _of course_. It was ridiculous to think Haruka might have meant something completely different. He smiles easily at him, scratching his cheek with his index finger in a show of gradual embarrassment.

"Thank you." Makoto says, and he doesn't bother to hide the shame from his voice. He forgot that he dropped this after Haruka appeared behind him in all his _dripping-wet glory._ Just the memory is enough to make Makoto's cheeks flame even brighter. Now is the best time to finally clear things up, so he lets it all go. "I'm really sorry, about before. I just wanted to say that I wasn't thinking."

Haruka holds up a hand. "It's fine."

"It… It is?"

Haruka shrugs, putting a hand in his pocket.

"I looked at the packaging when you left. The fish was expired."

"I see." That doesn't make Makoto feel any better, to be quite honest. Yet to Haruka, the severity of the situation seemed to hinge on whether or not he lost out on his meal, so Makoto figures he should just graciously accept the strange blessing. "I'm glad I helped then?"

Haruka makes a noncommittal sound.

"But that doesn't change the fact that I broke in and made a mess. If there's anything I can do, anything at all to make it up to you?" Haruka grows quieter-if that were at all possible-and oddly enough looks like he's considering this.

"Maybe I can take you out?" Makoto catches himself. "F-for coffee, sometime? As an apology?"

"That's not necessary." Haruka contends, and there's a finality to it.

Makoto tries to hide his disappointment over being so easily shut down.

Instead, his neighbor looks inside his apartment, then at Makoto, before taking a dangerous step closer to him. It takes all the willpower Makoto possesses to not gravitate forward.

He tries desperately to remember how to _breathe _as Haruka peers at him with deliberance.

"Come inside." Haruka orders, and Makoto blinks once, twice- his blush could encompass the whole sky and paint it red.

"Okay…" He whispers, and he's _powerless._

* * *

_A/N: Out of the fire and into the frying pan Makoto goes._


End file.
